The Life of the Fly 



daffodil was making Its appearance in the 

 meadows, If the Linnet was hatching on the 

 juniper-bushes, If the Cockchafers were plop- 

 ping down from the wind-shaken poplars. 

 Thus was the sacred spark kept aglow, ever 

 brighter than before. 



By easy stages, I came to Virgil and was 

 very much smitten with Mellbceus, Corydon, 

 Menalcas, Damoetas and the rest of them. 

 The scandals of the ancient shepherds fortu- 

 nately passed unnoticed; and within the frame 

 in which the characters moved were exquisite 

 details concerning the Bee, the Cicada, the 

 Turtle-dove, the Crow, the Nanny-goat and the 

 golden broom. A veritable delight were these 

 stories of the fields, sung in sonorous verse; 

 and the Latin poet left a lasting impression on 

 my classical recollections. 



Then, suddenly, good-bye to my studies, 

 good-bye to TItyrus and Menalcas. Ill-luck 

 is swooping down on us, relentlessly. Hunger 

 threatens us at home. And now, boy, put your 

 trust In God; run about and earn your pen- 

 n'orth of potatoes as best you can. Life is 

 about to become a hideous inferno. Let us 

 pass quickly over this phase. 



Amid this lamentable chaos, my love for the 

 insect ought to have gone under. Not at all. 

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